


Grave Garden

by Rogue_Mutt



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue_Mutt/pseuds/Rogue_Mutt
Summary: Asgore feels the need to talk to his son again. Now, the only way he can is to talk to his grave.





	Grave Garden

> It had been a long time since Asgore last spoke to his son, but he felt it was time to visit his grave again today. He made sure nothing would distract him for the midafternoon. All of his tasks for the day were finished early, he turned off his phone and left it in his bedroom, he put up the chain in front of the entrance to his basement and took the keys with him, and had the power in the elevator shut down. His afternoon belonged to no one other than his deceased son.
> 
> For their conversation, he was informally dressed. Looking through his wardrobe, he found an old sweater buried underneath his usual attires. A bright pink sweater, with the words “Mr Dad Guy” etched in the sewing. He decided it would be appropriate for his private meeting. It was a covered in a thin layer of dust from age and it was a snug fit when he put it on. The fur from his belly was exposed to the air every time his arms raised over his head, and even he had to admit he looked ridiculous when he looked himself in the mirror.
> 
> Even still, he smiled and got ready for his reunion.
> 
> Tea had been brewing while he was dressing, and the pot whistled from across the house. He returned to the kitchen to find the brew ready and he set the pot on a plain looking platter with two tiny, delicate teacups. Scents of golden flower wafted from the steam and reminded him of more pleasant memories. If only they were accompanied by cinnamon and butterscotch, perhaps he could close his eyes and truly escape to all those years ago.
> 
> His pipe dreaming ended when his eyes opened. He had delayed long enough. With a slight bounce in his step he carried the platter down the steps on his way to the Throne Room, humming along the way.
> 
> He arrived soon after, glimpsing at the field of golden flowers in the Throne Room. From his position just outside the entryway, Asgore took the time to admire his handiwork.
> 
> By now, his garden had grown immensely. The soil on top of the tiles covered almost the entire room, save for a small stretch at the back. On top of the soil was a field of golden flowers and a bed of grass between the entryway and the garden. At this time of day, they shined brilliantly under a veil of sunlight. Vines climbed the walls and columns around the garden, slowly approaching the sunlight that was somewhere high above.
> 
> Asgore couldn’t help feeling pride in his work. Every day he would take the time to water his garden, trim the edges, all to make the flowers as healthy as if they were still on the surface.
> 
> Of course, he couldn’t replicate conditions on the surface in his Throne Room. Rain can never touch the flowers, winds will never brush the petals, even insects will never dwell within the tiny forest of the garden, including bees to carry the pollen. Whenever he walked over the flowerbed, tiny puffs of pollen would burst from the flowerheads. At first, he would get allergic reactions from all the pollen, but he had gotten used to it. Only soil, water, and sunlight were the best he could provide.
> 
> The irony brought an amused smirk on his face; he could offer no more to his entire kingdom than he could to a flower garden. Sure, he’d walk around the kingdom and greet his citizens, ask how their day was and bring smiles to their faces. They’d smile at him as though nothing was wrong, but he could tell the underground was getting claustrophobic for many. It was all he could do to prevent riots and epidemics on his fair kingdom.
> 
> His wife, Toriel, would have been better suited to putting people’s minds at ease. And his children would have reminded everyone how joyful it was to be alive. But now his children were gone, and his wife had left him so long ago.
> 
> It was unimaginably difficult for him to try and act like them when he needed them most. All that hope was burdened on him, a hope that would shatter if he showed hesitation or weakness for any moment. And the things he had to do to keep that hope alive, the people that he-
> 
> The teacups on the tray were rattling. He stopped shaking and recomposed himself. Time for that later, he thought.
> 
> He stepped in the Throne Room, stopping just outside the main garden. His gaze focused on the center, where he planted the first flower taken from the surface all those years ago and smiled.
> 
> “Howdy!” He greeted. “How have you been Asriel?”
> 
> His answer was met by a blank stare from a faceless bed of flowers. He couldn’t help but nervously tug at the snug collar of his sweater.
> 
> “Erm… sorry.” He said. “I’m not so used to this.” He held his tray up as though to show his garden. “I brought tea for us while we chat. It’s goldenflower, your favorite.”
> 
> Once more its silence that responds as he starts to sit down, setting the tray aside while he pours himself a cup.
> 
> “Oh alright, it’s _my_ favorite. We can still enjoy a cup together if you’d like.” He pours into the other cup and sets it at the edge of the garden. “There.”
> 
> He gets comfortable in the grass, sitting cross-legged while taking his first sip of his tea. Somewhere outside, he hears birdsong chorusing in pleasant harmony. It sets his mind at ease and he smiles.
> 
> “Nice day today.” He said. “Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, perfect weather for a game of catch. Wouldn’t you agree?”
> 
> A long silence passed, and he took another sip of tea. He tried to come up with more conversation topics while trying to save face. Finally, he is able to continue his small talk.
> 
> “Mettaton is making quite a name for himself now, isn’t he?” He asked. Memories flood back to before Alphys was anointed as his Royal Scientist. “Yes, he’s really gotten popular on television, everyone seems to love him. I was skeptical about the cost of his productions at first, but he really seems passionate about his work. I don’t personally watch his performances, I never got into installing a television at home. I bet you would have liked his show too.”
> 
> A cold chill ran up his back. He took another sip of tea to try and warm himself. The other teacup at the edge of the garden was still full, with less steam billowing than before. His paw reached for the cup and he poured some into the soil at the edge. He smiled and took another sip.
> 
> “You know, when Alphys first told me about her latest creation, she said she was able to put a soul into it. That she made Mettaton with a soul inside him.” He smiled sadly and shook his head. “I know everyone in the underground, and his mannerisms, personality, hobbies, he’s just like Hapstablook. You might remember him. He used to run a snail farm with his cousin in Waterfall. I’m not sure why she felt she had to lie to me, but I humored her.”
> 
> He finished his cup of tea and began pouring more into his cup. Within moments, his cup was refilled and refreshed. He refilled the other cup and set the pot back down.
> 
> “Alphys is passionate too, I think.” Asgore went on. “She’s just sensitive and easily discouraged. I remember she was working on a project that would save fallen monsters from death. She didn’t tell me all the details, but she mentioned that if she was successful, monsters might be able to pass freely through the barrier.” He lightly chuckled and shook his head. “I was overeager. I was convinced it was the right direction for the kingdom. For me. I told her to focus all of her resources on the project, and she did.”
> 
> He ran a paw over his forehead with a sigh. “It was successful, at first. Only, it didn’t last. She sent word to the families that the monsters were okay. They could start visiting the next morning. But the next morning, she sort of, stopped. She stopped going out, stopped letting monsters into the lab for any reason, she even no longer took my own calls whether I was gentle or demanding. She isolated herself and I was really starting to worry.
> 
> “Then one day, she got better. I could tell she still wasn’t the same after the incident, but it seemed she was finally healing. I don’t talk to her about the incident, I’m sure she blames herself for whatever happened. Even though I was the one who told her to proceed.”
> 
> He took some more sips from his tea and sighed. He noticed his paws were shaking a bit and his heart was beating a little faster. His hands clenched and he took deep breaths. Soon he was calm again, and then he remembered something.
> 
> “I think Undyne might have something to do with it.” He said. “You remember her, don’t you? I used to train with her when she was a teenager. She’s the head of the Royal Guard now, the others really seem to look up to her. We meet every now and then to catch up on old times, or whenever she needs to give reports on the happenings of the kingdom. I sometimes ask her what she thinks of Alphys. She seems to really admire her, which is high praise coming from a remarkable young woman like her. Only…”
> 
> He thought for a moment about the way Undyne would talk about Alphys. There was admiration for sure, but he could always sense there was something more to it. There was a familiar flare to how she would talk about her. The tone of her voice, the flattery and respect, the choice in words.
> 
> It was how he used to talk about Toriel.
> 
> “I think there might be more to it than friendship.” Asgore said. “Undyne really seems to care for Alphys. I’m not as sure about how Alphys feels, but there seems to be something there too. They’re good for each other. If they really want it, they’ll find their way to one another on their own.”
> 
> Talking about them made him feel nostalgic. He and Toriel used to be so good together. Laughing, baking, talking about the weather. He would endure a long hard day of work that was admittedly rather thankless. Then he’d come back home, see her sitting in the living room by the fire, give him a beautiful smile when he entered, and he’d remember why he did it every day.
> 
> Like most memories, it was pleasant only until he came back to the present – the here and now. Because here and now, he was alone. Toriel was gone, she probably still hated him after all these years. He’d return to an empty home and always wonder why he did the things he did.
> 
> Then he remembered why. The remains of that reason were spread over the garden in front of him.
> 
> “I have six now.” He said suddenly. “Since yesterday. Alphys managed to safely store the soul for me. Its with the others near the barrier.”
> 
> He didn’t notice his paws were shaking until the rest of his tea spilled on his sweater. It was only lukewarm, so it didn’t burn the skin beneath his fur. A fist-sized splotch showed right where the first “D” in “Dad” showed.
> 
> Before he could stop it, he cracked a smile and started laughing.
> 
> “Mr Ad Guy!” He cried. “Oh, how delightful! What would Tori say?”
> 
> His laughter filled the room, even as tears stung his eyes. He had to lean forward with his paws on his knees. The amusement of the situation wasn’t even present anymore. He had just suddenly felt the weight of everything on him and he had to laugh just so he wouldn’t cry.
> 
> “Un-Undyne,” he said between laughs. “Saw me, after I killed the last child. There was this horror on her face I had never seen before. She was actually about to cry. Undyne, of all people!”
> 
> He kept laughing, though he had fewer breaths to take and tears were still soaking his beard.
> 
> “She… she told me she didn’t want me to suffer the way I did. She said I was the most wonderful person she knew and that I shouldn’t be the one to have to kill children for monsterkind!” Now that was hilarious, he thought. It was so funny that he had to cry.
> 
> “She always acts so stoic but still she’s so young and naïve. So much like you were.”
> 
> Now the desire to laugh was gone. The moment he stopped the laughter transformed into sobbing. His paws grabbed the blades of grass next to him and he shut his eyes tightly. Still the tears came, and his emotions poured out of him like a breaking dam.
> 
> “I… I’m sorry.” He tried to say with a smile. “I didn’t mean to lose myself like that. It’s just…” He looked at the garden with vision blurred by wet tears. “It hurts so much. I…” He looked down again, unable to look at the garden again. “No father should have to bury his child.”
> 
> In his emotional state, he imagined his son grown up, as he should be. Tall, grown-up, and proud of him.
> 
> “You were only a child.” He sobbed. “You should have grown up, lived a life full of love, gotten married, had children of your own…” He bit back more tears before they escaped. “If I were a better father than you’d still be…”
> 
> He buried his face in the grass and shouted as loud as he could. All the raw, bottled up emotion suddenly needed to be let out, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His shout echoed throughout the room and beyond.
> 
> “I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “Asriel. Tori. Chara. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ He kept repeating over and over again in his dismay.
> 
> After a long time, he finally ran out of tears. Slowly, he sat back up straight, eyes bloodshot and still damp. With great effort, he looked at the center of the flower garden again – the spot where his son died all those years ago.
> 
> “Its almost over.” Asgore said. “One more, and I’ll be able to shatter the barrier. Monsters will be free, and I,” he clenched his fists. “can finally die. It will all be over soon. I promise.”
> 
> The tea had long since gotten cold, yet still he drank the last drops from the pot. He stood up, pouring the last of the tea from the other cup onto the flowerbed, and turned away.
> 
> _One more_, he thought again.
> 
> Freedom, retribution, death, then peace.


End file.
